They bled your piggybanks and maimed your pride, The straws were finally dry enough to light, When did the rats begin to bite your legs? Try and grasp a few more tracts of life. All those scarecrows burning? All those scarecrows burning? In the flames i watched the last geese fly, The embers floating, as you cursed the light. On broken knees you will make a prayer, These burning bridges will not last the night. Are those scarecrows burning? Are those scarecrows burning? Will i see them bleeding soon? Like slaughtered hogs, burnt by the moon?